


let us hear the heart

by smarky



Category: Professional Wrestling, 株式会社スターダム | World Wonder Ring Stardom
Genre: Don't Try This At Home, F/F, Horror, Violation of Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-25 20:38:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20918261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smarky/pseuds/smarky
Summary: Momo reaches her lowest point after losing the White Belt, and her Goddesses belts with Utami, but her partner has more in store for her.





	let us hear the heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ItsDanaNow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsDanaNow/gifts).

“I’m glad you’re coming out with us this time,” Leo says to Momo. They're sitting together on the train, rushing along to get drinks after another long week-day of training.

Momo shoves down the immediate hot flush of embarrassment and smiles softly back at her. “Of course, why wouldn’t I?” 

There are, in fact, many reasons Momo wouldn't, but Leo is polite enough not to mention that. 

Momo has missed a lot of outings with her friends lately, and she doesn’t know why she keeps letting herself do it. Over and over, some instinct in Momo compels her to beg off, to claim she’s too tired or needs to focus on practicing alone, and when Momo does choose to go out, her mind drifts off and blocks her from hearing chunks of conversation. It sets a terrible example for the rookies, to be missing so much bonding time. But Momo hasn’t been able to stop herself. 

If Io were in this position, what would she do? It’s hard to imagine, because Io never let herself fall this far. Even after the rare times when Io experienced a major loss, her spirit remained strong. 

But it’s alright. Momo will push through this, as Io would want her to, and no matter what her friends will be there to support her. Utami will be there to support her. In truth, that’s the only reason she’s coming tonight: Utami’s encouragement. 

Momo clasps Leo’s shoulder encouragingly, and then they both return to their phones.

She recalls the startled look on Utami’s face when she had taken Utami’s hand to comfort her at the hospital not too long ago. Utami is so brave, trying to get through trials own her own when she doesn’t ask that of them, and she deserves more kindness from the world. 

The jumpy music the bar plays is so loud that even though Momo is sheltered within her group of friends, part of her has already shut down. Every small sound-- silverware clinking, chairs scraping, strangers cheering-- is a new and convincing reason to return home. 

Bea teases her for her fruity drinks, mostly through strategically placed emojis, and that bit of communication is a nice distraction. Momo tries not to look at Io's contact and remember how she had yet to say anything about Momo's loss of the White Belt. It made sense that Io didn’t spend much time following Stardom anymore, and there was no reason to reward Momo with attention for a mistake, but… some guidance would be nice, since she is Io’s successor. Momo feels her absence more intensely now than any other time since she left. 

“I warned you what would happen!” Utami exclaims. She has beaten some strange guy at a game they’re playing on their phones. 

Utami’s laughing, and he’s already looking annoyed. Bea pats the guy on the back, and shares an amused look with Momo over his shoulder. Utami set herself on something, of course she would succeed at it. 

“As soon as I saw he had been playing for two years longer than me, I knew I had to win,” says Utami. 

“That game has a lot to do with luck, doesn’t it?” Leo’s consolation is much more sincere. 

Momo hasn’t paid enough attention to see what kind of game it is, so she can’t attest to that. But she’s not planning on letting the guy get a word in-edgewise. “Utami is still certainly the better player.” 

“The key isn’t luck or skill,” says Utami. “It’s getting the mental edge, messing with your opponent’s perception. Just like in wrestling.” 

Momo glances down at her phone. There’s a text from Leo: “I love her, but not everything in life has to be so competitive.” Momo shoots back a shrug emoji. It figures that Leo would still be thinking like that when she’s so new to Queen’s Quest. 

“Wait, wrestling?” The guy finally stops scowling. Ah, so Utami hadn’t told him. 

“It’s what I was born for.” Utami says it with such confidence. Momo envies that. She knows Utami gets anxious sometimes, so maybe it’s something Utami has had to work towards, but it sure doesn’t appear that way. “Don’t look so confused. I mean I am a pro-wrestler.” 

“You’re a wrestler? I knew I’d seen you somewhere before!” 

Momo stays in the conversation to confirm that she's a wrestler as well, but not for much longer after that. She’s content watching Utami’s passion in speaking about their art. And with the way Utami has so many accomplishments to present for him… well, Momo doesn’t feel right jumping in, now that she has no current accomplishments to speak of. Then Utami brings in Bea to show off too, and Momo only feels worse. 

When the guy asks for a photo with Utami, Momo steps in. She’s taken so many photos of Utami by now that she’s the best one for it. 

Momo focuses the phone camera. Utami is lounged on the bench like it’s a throne, and the gold light fanning over face lends her an almost ethereal appearance. The light emphasizes her muscles, too, exposed by the loose tank-top Utami so unself-consciously wears. It feels as if she must have always appeared this way, as much as Momo knows that’s ridiculous, because unlike most of the wrestlers around them, there’s no years of being a scrawny rookie to look back on and compare to, just athletic perfect Utami nearly from day one. 

They’re probably confused why Momo takes so much time and snaps so many photos, and so is she. Maybe this would be Momo’s profession in another life, capturing queens if she couldn’t be one. 

After that Momo has to retreat to the bathroom for a while. Crouched in her stall, she chokes down the unnameable sensations rising in her like steam. Momo feels so out of shape, like her body isn’t her own, like she’s just a set of eyes and the rest doesn’t belong to her. Her thoughts swirl and spiral and loop, as if celebrating her pain. 

At least Momo isn't gorging herself on cheap wine and sobbing into the sleeve of her dress like Natsu Sumire probably is at some other bar. 

The pleasure she gets from that idea is short-lived. 

Momo doesn’t hesitate to order another drink as soon as she returns to their table. The others don’t seem to have missed her too much, which is heartening. 

“You look like you’re worried about something,” a voice says close to Momo’s ear. She nearly jumps from shock. Now vaguely unsettled, Momo barely recognizes the voice before her vision clears and Utami’s sweet face is revealed in front of her. 

“Just the usual work stuff,” Momo says as casually as possible. 

“So this is the new normal for you?” Utami frowns, and Momo instantly feels like she picked the wrong answer and needs to fix it. 

“No. You’re right, it shouldn’t be, I’m just very focused on getting back to, and surpassing, where I was.” 

“That’s got to be really stressful,” says Utami. 

It’s okay, you don’t have to try to empathize, I know you’ve never let yourself fall this far, Momo almost wants to respond. 

“I think you need to find a way to relax.” 

She’s right, but that’s much harder than it sounds. “Isn’t that what drinking is for?” 

Utami smirks, and Momo feels a little warmer for having earned it. “Well, yes, but drinking isn’t fully effective, is it? How about a massage?” 

Had AZM told Utami she had been thinking about trying one recently? “Oh, I’ve never had one.. Can I really find a legitimate place at this hour?” 

The prospect of even trying to navigate anywhere beyond her usual route is uncomfortable when she’s already this drunk, not to mention that she has no idea what to look for. 

“There’s no need to go searching. I’m right here,” says Utami, gesturing to herself showily. “Well, I’ve never worked as a therapist officially, but I’ve had massage training. I like being able to bring it out when I want to.” 

“Of course you know how to do this too, I should have known.” Momo hopes she sounds like she’s teasing rather than gushing. 

"I think that one doesn’t just need physical relaxation, one needs emotional relaxation, and that’s what I’ve learned to do."

"Oh wow."

After talking a bit more, they agree to go back to Momo’s apartment together for the massage. It’s still exhilarating that someone like Utami wants to come over to hang out with her alone. Momo still spends the journey over worrying that there’s something out of place she had forgotten to clean away, or anything unflattering that Utami would object to. She wants to be the best host possible, especially when Utami is doing her such a great favor for free. 

Luckily, once they arrive Utami seems content and makes herself at home right away. She watches intently as Momo unfolds her futon, then towels, and sets out a couple of her favorite fleece blankets, so that Utami doesn’t have to try to move her under the comforter if she passes out. 

“Do we need anything else? Should I go try to find some body oil, or...” Momo trails off. 

Utami shakes her head. “I have my own secret blend. I call it the Blue Flower.” 

Momo almost laughs. Utami really is prepared for everything. “That’s pretty.” 

“So, before we begin… are there any places I should avoid touching, anywhere that might be hurt?” 

Momo hesitates, because she doesn’t want to admit this, but… “My knee still bothers me. The one I injured, of course.” 

Utami’s face is impassive. If this seems like a big weakness to her, she doesn’t show it. “Alright, we’ll avoid that knee. I’m mostly sticking with a back massage anyway.” 

Utami reaches in and takes a little bottle out of her bag. 

“I should warn you. Parts of this may be uncomfortable, or even painful. But you’ll truly feel more relaxed long term. You just have to trust me.”

Of course Momo trusts her. She lays down on the towels over her futon. Utami shuts off the light and kneels down next to her. This almost feels like a more intimate experience than what they had agreed to, and for a moment Momo lets herself pretend that’s what’s happening. 

“Aren’t you going to take off your shirt?” 

Momo’s glad the lights are off. She’s probably blushing. Somehow she forgot about that part. It’s a whole different world from the quick shucking of garments in their locker room, to have Utami intent next to her on a mattress in the dark privacy of her own home. 

Momo doesn’t want this to get weird, so she quickly takes off her shirt and bra and turns on her side, away from Utami. Utami snorts and shoves her onto her stomach. 

Momo can’t see much now, but her mouth and nose are mostly free. She focuses so much on the brittle softness of the pillow fabric that the snap of the oil bottle opening startles her. 

“Just warming up the oil with my hands. I’ll be touching you in a moment.” 

Utami's wet hands settle lightly over Momo's upper back, and then begin stroking, circling back and forth and back and forth with very little pressure. So the massage really is starting. 

Momo perhaps smells lavender in the oil. but she can't be sure. Whatever it is, it’s strong and relaxing, the perfect compliment to Utami’s gentle hands. Momo revels in the fact that she can be touched so intimately by Utami of all people. 

“What is this technique?” Momo asks.

"I'm starting with a figure eight to warm up. Or an eternity symbol, if you like."

That's the last concrete information Momo asks for. Momo is too lost in how good she feels to want to concentrate on learning. 

"Alright, so what's been bothering you?" Utami says it as she's pulling up the muscle in Momo's back, like she's flattening warm dough between her palms. “You need to be open with me for this to work.” 

Is it really good for relaxation, to be dredging up your problems now? Momo isn't sure, but she's not the expert like Utami, so she doesn’t mention it. "Well. I lost my titles."

"Have you accepted this?" 

Momo stiffens. Utami's hands still suddenly, and Momo wriggles her body in a futile attempt to get her to continue. 

"Don't tense up. Remember to keep breathing slowly whenever anything difficult comes up. In time with your breaths, accept it."

Momo starts taking deep breaths. Utami rewards her by resuming the massage. 

Yes, the titles are gone. If Momo wants to move on, she has to stop mourning them, has to stop expecting to see them there next to her. It’s a lot more comfortable to be telling herself this when Utami’s hands are sliding up her back, an anchor of pleasure. Utami is always watching out for her. 

“Now go deeper,” says Utami, punctuating it by applying increasing pressure to Momo’s shoulder. At first it’s painful, but then something snaps into place and Momo shoves her face into the pillow, trying not to moan. 

“I… I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be doing, if I’m not in the title picture.” 

Momo breathes in, exhales. 

“Good. Deeper,” says Utami.

Momo strengthens under the praise. It’s like when she was first learning to associate the sharp pain of falling on her back from Io’s kicks with the look of approval she received when she stood back up. 

“I lost… Io’s championship. And she’s said nothing to me since. I’m afraid I don’t represent her anymore.” That was very difficult to say. Momo is starting to feel sick. God, what was the point if she didn’t believe she represented Io? 

Utami’s hands lift abruptly. "If I keep going like this for much longer I’m going to get tired. I need to get in a better position." 

Then she steps over the futon and straddles Momo’s back, settling her weight down carefully. Momo is a cup teetering on a ledge between arousal and nausea, no certainty where she will fall and shatter. 

Utami keeps massaging, pressing firmer and firmer. Momo's muscles loosen more and more until they're soft and pliable under Utami's hands. 

"I can barely move my arms…" Momo whispers. She's so lightheaded it barely bothers her. "You're really good at this." 

"Aren't I good at everything?" There's no hint of joke in Utami's tone. "Go deeper." 

It takes more prodding for Momo to remember how to speak, nevermind compose the thoughts she needs. Her stomach churns violently. "Once I beat her title record… I really felt like I had chance to live up to Io, you know?" 

Utami hums encouragingly. It’s supposed to make Momo feel good. 

"Maybe that's why I lost it. I was so foolish thinking I could ever approach her." 

Momo's stomach is doing flips almost in time with her breathing. Maybe she's regressing to some deeper part of herself that's not meant for others to see. Nobody except Utami.

"I can't help but keep comparing myself to you--" Momo's voice falters, mangled. "You're all still elite, and I'm. A loser. At least you'll all protect me until I'm ready to flourish again."

"You think so?" It's a strange response. 

Momo craves reassurance from Utami, but silence stretches out for many excruciating seconds. It's not coming, is it? 

Utami's knuckles dig down the curve of Momo's hip. Her thighs jolt and quiver. Momo realizes she's started crying, pillow uncomfortably wet underneath her cheeks. Why? 

"At least you've never…" The pressure is too much. "I'm the one who's beat Io. Not you. She picked me." Momo can’t keep doing these deep breaths.

"Yeah, I think it's time for some guided listening." Utami leans fully over and brushes Momo's hair behind her ear, her other hand still working on Momo’s hip. Momo is overwhelmed by the intimate feeling of it. She's getting so exhausted she isn't sure she can speak anymore. 

"You're not the ace anymore." 

Utami says it aggressively, like she's giving a press conference. Those five words strike down on Momo like a lightning bolt. 

"No, maybe you never were. And you know what? All of Queens' Quest knows it. They see you breaking down."

She isn’t… they all… what is Utami saying? What’s happening?

"How can you be the ace when you're at someone's mercy like this? You can't even argue with me right now!" 

Everything Utami says is emphasized by the jabbing pleasure of each deep press of her fingers. 

"So I'm taking over from you. I'm the ace now. There's no need to live up to Io, I'm already better than her."

Momo's fading. Her whole self is fading. 

"How did you not know, have you not been paying attention to everything I've said and done? You're going to regret being weak enough to draft me second when I was injured. I'm already rebuilding the faction. You might not be so desirable to keep around for long either."

There's such pressure that it’s as if a rod is drilling into Momo's neck. Stars explode in her vision. 

The room morphs into a gym, and Momo pulls herself up to see Io's giant grin before she falls back down, again, and again, until the floor is broken, and she scabbles but she can’t grab a shard to stop herself from falling down the basement and into the core of the Earth. 

Momo opens her eyes and finds herself on her back on her futon, fever hot under the cartoon characters of her fleece blankets, saddled with a sizeable hangover. Utami pads out of the kitchen with a glass of water. 

"Hey, you shook a lot in your sleep, did you have a nightmare?" 

Momo doesn’t know what to say to her. Utami holds out the glass of water and Momo is so thirsty than she takes it without hesitating. 

"Like I said, oftentimes people fall asleep during a massage. It's pretty normal to have weird dreams, too, with how recalibrated your nervous system is."

What happens if Momo screams at Utami for everything she said, and it was all a dream? Momo can't tell if it happened or not. The memories are already so hazy. 

It probably was a dream, wasn't it? Why would Utami treat her like that after all Momo had done for her? 

It just doesn't make sense. Momo can't believe that. She drinks the water clumsily, excess water streaming down her face, and cleanses herself of her doubts. 

Momo grabs one of the melting ice-cubes from the now empty glass and holds it against her aching forehead. She decides what she's going to say a good ten seconds in advance. "Yeah, I had a really bad dream. And I'm pretty hungover."

"It happens." Their hands brush as Utami takes the glass away. There's no darkness to shield Momo's face this time. 

"My body definitely feels renewed, though, thank you," says Momo. She sits up slowly, her body feeling overstretched and out of sync. 

Utami's already at the steps, tying her shoes. "I'll text you a couple exercises. But I've really got to go, it's so late."

"Get home safely, kohei." The words shove out of Momo's mouth clumsily.

Utami inclines her head, smile wide, and before Momo can say another word the door clicks behind her. 

The room is so still now, like Utami had never been there. 

Momo falls back down on the futon, and winces at the resulting pain in her sore back. She is such a bad friend. Utami had been looking out for Momo, and Momo had repaid her by subconsciously not trusting her. Momo shivers with disgust, remembering snippets of the words she had made for Utami to say. The fact that Momo's brain had conjured up such destructive opinions of herself is concerning as well, to say the least. 

Momo needs to get a grip. 

God, Momo would kill someone if it meant Io came back to help her. But Io is done with her now. All Momo can do is hurt her opponents badly enough it gets Utami's attention instead. 

She’s not sure she can get through this intact anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> psa: you shouldnt drink before getting a massage, they dont interact well. the way massages increase your circulation means alcohol hits your bloodstream quicker and last longer, which ends up worsening your drunkness and even making you sick. does utami know this? you decide.


End file.
